Memories on film
by writergal85
Summary: A future fic inspired by the CTM Series 5 Christmas Special. Definitely AU. Moved from my blog to here.
1. Chapter 1

_1968_

"Smile and wave for the camera, Ange!"

Tim pointed the Super 8 toward his little sister, her face just visible through the kitchen hatch. She grinned, revealing one missing tooth, and then stuck her tongue out.

"Very ladylike," her father said drily. "Tim, put the camera down a moment and come help your sister set the table."

Tim put the camera on a side table and came around to collect the plates and knives. He gave a cursory glance to the casserole dish on the counter and nodded approvingly. "Not bad, Dad."

"Mum made it earlier, he just had to put it in the oven."

"You weren't supposed to tell, young lady," Dad teased. He poked at the edge of the casserole with a serving spoon and frowned. "As long as the mince is done I think we'll survive."

Tim heard the front door open, grabbed his camera again and went to meet his mother in the hall.

"Smile, Mum!"

"Timothy!" she gasped, then blushed with prim embarrassment. "Put that camera down and come here."

Tim grinned and embraced his stepmother. He towered over her, but she still hugged him as tightly as she had the day he'd come home from the hospital, polio-free.

"We heard you weren't coming in until tomorrow."

"I finished up my exams this morning, so I just decided to catch an earlier train with Charlie."

"Well, I won't pretend I'm not glad." She stepped back and tutted. "But you looked exhausted. You didn't have to rush back to Poplar straight after exams. You could have gotten some rest first."

"And miss Dad's home cooking?"

"I heard that," Dad called from the kitchen.

Mum chuckled. "Come on. If I'm hungry, you must be starving."

Tim helped her out of her coat and followed her into the kitchen.

"Hello, love," Dad said, kissing her briefly. "Everything go all right with the Edwards baby?"

She pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan to wash her hands. "Yes. A very long second stage, and breech, but Nurse Sutherland handled it wonderfully. She's gotten much more confident these past few months." She paused, lost in thought, then smiled. "She reminds me a bit of Nurse Noakes actually when she first started out."

"Akela?" Tim asked. "Is she still running the Mother and Baby home?"

"No, she and Sergeant Noakes moved farther south earlier this year. The air's better for Freddie's lungs," Mum turned to dry her hands on a cloth and frowned. "Angela, what are you doing with that chair?"

"I can't reach the glasses. " She shoved the chair closed to the counter and started to climb on the seat until Dad reached out and stopped her.

"Hold on. Here." He set four glasses on the counter. "Next time, ask for help." He carried the chair back to the table.

Tim easily reached over her head, nearly touching the top of the cupboard with his fingertips. "See? I can reach them."

Angela crossed her arms and glared at her brother. "One day I'm going to be taller than you."

"Maybe. Or you could take after Mum and have to use a step stool to reach the high shelves at the maternity home."

Dad raised his eyebrows. "Is that your way of volunteering to organise medical supplies while you're home?"

"Um -"

"That's what I thought. Go on, time to wash up for dinner."

"They're not that far from Chichester actually," Mum said, once they'd all sat down and started to eat.

"Who, Shelagh?"

"The Noakes. They're not that far from the Mother House. They see the sisters quite regularly." Her smile turned melancholy and she pushed her food around her plate.

Dad laid a hand on her arm. "We'll see visit the sisters and the Noakes at Easter, Shelagh. I promise."

"I know, Patrick. I just miss them a little this time of year." Her smile brightened as she turned to Tim. "I'm glad you were able to come home for Christmas, Timothy. Edinburgh is so far away from Poplar."

"I know, Mum. But I really like it there."

"Your classes going well?" Dad asked.

Tim nodded. "I don't much fancy English or history, but I really like my science courses."

"Do you get dissect all sorts of gross things?" Angela asked, wrinkling her nose.

Tim laughed. "A few. Mostly it's a lot of memorising and reading. I can't wait until I'm actually allowed to practice medicine and help people like Dad does."

"You've got a few years yet," his dad said.

"I know." Tim sighed. "But my anatomy professor said he might be able to help me get a job working at the hospital during half-term."

He watched his mum and dad exchange a worried look. "You wouldn't want to come back to Poplar for the holiday?" Mum said.

"You know there's always a place here, for you, Tim, working at the maternity home," Dad said.

"I know," he said carefully. "But this is a really good opportunity too." He saw the flash of pain in Mum's eyes - he didn't want to hurt her. "I'll think about it," he added.

"Can I play with your camera after dinner, Timmy?" Angela asked.

"It's not a plaything, Angela," Mum said. "It looks quite expensive, actually."

"It wasn't really," Tim said. "My friend, Charlie - his dad works as a news producer at the BBC - he helped me pick it out. Lots of families have them now."

"What for?" Dad asked.

"Home movies."

Mum raised her eyebrows. "Home movies?"

"Like the pictures?" Angela asked.

Tim nodded. "Sort of. There's no sound, so it's more like watching TV with the volume turned down."

"I want to be on TV one day," Angela said with a dreamy sigh.

"Your Mum was on TV once," Dad said, winking at Mum. Tim bit back a laugh. Some things never changed.

Angela's mouth dropped open. "No, she wasn't. Were you, Mum?"

Mum's face turned red. "It was only one broadcast."

"I remember that," Tim said. "You were only little, Ange, so you don't remember. But this man from the BBC came to film the children's concert that year. The reverend arranged it - and then made Mum do all the work!"

Mum sighed but didn't contradict him. "It was quite an undertaking - especially after the children got the measles."

"So your mum and the other nurses and nuns sang instead," Dad finished. "Brilliantly, I might add."

"Mum had a solo and everything," Tim added, grinning as his mum's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink. "We came to church and saw her. You just don't remember because you were too little."

Angela looked at her mother with new eyes, wide with awe. "And they filmed it and put it on the telly? Really?"

"Didn't Nonnatus get a sample of the film afterwards, as a keepsake?" Dad asked.

Mum's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Yes, I think so, But so many things were given away or tossed out when they shut down and moved to the Mother House. I don't even know where it would be now," she said, a little sadly. So much had changed in so short a time. The nuns were gone and many of the nurses she knew had moved on to other jobs in other places. She glanced above the fireplace, where many of their Christmas cards hung, reminders of days gone by.

Angela let out a long sigh. "I wish I could see it. Then I would remember."


	2. Chapter 2

Tim met his dad early the next morning at the breakfast table.

"You're up already? Even Mum's still asleep," Dad said when he saw him making a strong pot of tea. "Is this a new university habit?"

Tim snorted. "Not likely. No, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Is this about the summer job?" Dad asked, looking concerned. "It's all right to want it, you know. We'll miss you, your mother and I and Angela, but we also want you to do well, Tim, and have a good life."

"It's not that. I mean, I definitely want it, but I'm gonna give Mum a month or two to get used to the idea before I commit." He finished making the tea and took a seat opposite his dad, unsure of how to begin. "Mum seemed... sad, last night."

Dad let out a long sigh as he poured tea for both of them. "It's been hard this year. Since the nuns returned to the Mother House, and Nonnatus was closed up for good, we've been busier than ever at the maternity home. There's new staff and more regulations and more paperwork," he said, with a grumble. "And Angela's getting older and things are just changing right now. It's the first Christmas you've been away, and the first Christmas we haven't spent at Nonnatus. The nuns and nurses were a part of our family for many years, and your mum misses seeing them every day. We both do." He smiled at his son. "But we're glad you could come home to visit."

"Me, too. It wouldn't be Christmas without me."

His dad chuckled. "Right. Do you want some breakfast? I promise I've gotten better since you left for university. I won't burn the bacon this time."

Tim smirked. "Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks."

Dad rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I have not, however, missed your cheek."

"Hey Dad? I think I have an idea of what I want to get Mum for Christmas, but I'll need your help."

* * *

Getting hold of the film and renting a movie projector actually turned out to be the easy part. Once Tim explained his plan, Charlie and his dad were eager to help and gave him free run of the BBC archives until he found what he wanted.

"Thanks, mate," Tim told Charlie over a round of drinks at the pub across the street. "You don't know how much this will mean to my mum."

Charlie waved him off. "Consider it a thank you for helping me get through Professor Giles' chemistry lab. If I hadn't passed, I wouldn't have been able to come home for Christmas." He drained his pint. "I could probably get Dad to make you a copy of the film, too, for your Mum."

Tim's grin widened. "That would be brilliant!"

Getting Mum out of the house, however, turned out to be much more difficult.

"I don't understand this sudden mania with skating, Patrick. It's Christmas Eve! Can't we just spend time together as a family at home?"

"We'll have plenty of that tonight and tomorrow, Shelagh."

"I want to go skating. Please, Mummy?" Angela begged.

"Come on, look outside. It's perfect skating weather - clear, cold and just enough snow." Dad led her to the window and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "I'll bet you were a very good skater when you were a girl."

"I never learned actually."

"Really?" he said, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Then it's time you learned. Tim taught Angela last year. I'll teach you this year."

Mum turned in his arms, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You'll teach me how to skate?"

"What? Is that so absurd?"

"Patrick, the only sport I've ever seen you play is cricket, and you're not very good at that."

He dropped his arms and looked at her in mock indignation. "So unkind - and on Christmas Eve!"

Angela giggled and held out the extra set of skates they'd borrowed from Mrs. Penney. "Come on, Mum. Please?"

From the kitchen doorway, Tim watched Mum think and crossed his fingers. He didn't have to wait long, though, and he could tell the moment she decided. Her mouth stayed folded in prim sternness, but her eyes danced with silent laughter. She should never play cards, Tim thought.

"All right," she said with a sigh. "Let's go now before it starts snowing again."

Angela let out a squeal of glee and ran to put on her coat and boots.

"But if you break something, Patrick, and I have to spend another holiday in the London -"

"We'll all be safe as churches, I promise," he said, tugging at her hands and leading her to the door. She had her coat and shoes on before she realized Tim hadn't moved from the kitchen doorway.

"Tim? Aren't you coming? You love skating."

"Um, no. I thought I'd go and see Jack if that's all right." He looked away as he spoke, hoping she wouldn't question him further and catch him in a lie. He was just about as good at lying as she was. "You know, catch up."

Mum smiled and nodded, but he couldn't miss the disappointment in her voice. "Of course. We'll see you back here for dinner, before the service?"

"I'll be here!" he said, a little too enthusiastically, and both Angela and Mum gave him strange looks as he waved them goodbye and shut the door.

Finally. He'd almost given away the plot when he'd seen Mum's frown. He picked up the telephone and dialed Charlie's number.

"Charlie? They're gone. Phase Two is complete. Initiate Phase Three."

* * *

Two hours later, the front door opened again, letting in a gust of cold air and bubbling laughter into the darkened flat.

"Dad, can you teach me to skate backward next time?"

"Of course - though perhaps you should ask your mother. I'll don't believe you'd never ice-skated, Shelagh."

She chuckled. "You're just sore Angela and I beat you in that last race."

"You were really fast, Mum."

"Next time, I'm bringing Tim. Then it will be a fair fight."

"Where is Timothy? And why is it so dark in here? Patrick, can you get the lights?"

The lights switched on, bathing the sitting room in a warm glow. The chairs and the piano had been pushed to the corners to make room for a film projector and movie screen, and Tim stood by the sofa, waiting.

"What's this?" Mum asked as she looked around, a tiny frown of confusion appearing between her eyebrows. "Are we going to watch the home movie you filmed?"

Tim smiled. "No. Something better."

He gave her his arm and led her to the sofa, and gestured for Angela to follow. "Dad, could you get the lights again?"

Dad dimmed the lights and then sat beside Mum. Tim took a deep breath and prayed the projector worked as easily as Charlie said it would.

"Welcome to Christmas, 1960."

He didn't have to watch the film to know it had worked. He heard his mum's sharp intake of breath as her own face appeared on the screen and her voice filled the room.

"Mummy!" Angela gasped in a loud whisper. "That's you!" She scooted off the sofa to take a seat on the floor, closer to the screen, and Tim took her place beside Mum. She gave him a teary smile and squeezed his hand.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"And this time," he whispered back. "I don't have to hold the television aerial."

They watched the performance in silence, the older Turners lost in memories, Angela quiet with awe. Tim caught a glimpse of himself in the corner of the screen, playing piano, all elbows and knobby knees. He cringed. Thank God he was past that awful awkward stage. There were the indomitable Nurses Crane and Mount, and the reverend and his wife - though she hadn't been then, just another nurse - and the nuns. Sister Julienne, Sister Winifred and Sister Mary Cynthia had come to his graduation last term, to congratulate him, but Sister Evangelina had been too ill to come. It was strange to think of her ill. She'd always seemed so strong and stubborn, unable to be felled. She'd given him a scolding more than once when he'd tried to disobey Mum and Dad or sass back to his sister. He wasn't even sure when or if she'd gotten better. Mum had given him the address to the Mother House before he went to university, and encouraged him to write to the sisters, but he'd gotten busy with school and university life and hadn't found the time. He should write, over the holiday, just to say Merry Christmas.

He was beginning to understand what his Dad meant, when he worried over being "too busy" and "missing things" from his childhood. But how could you live and do everything you wanted to do in life and not miss something? There was never enough time.

Things _were_ changing, he realized, too fast, and the thought made him lean a little closer to Mum. He may move to Edinburgh permanently, but he would never not make time for her.

The film drew to close and the room went dark again until Dad switched on the lamp on the side table. Mum was discreetly wiping tears from her eyes with her handkerchief.

"Did you like it?" Tim asked, her emotion making him a little nervous. "I thought since you couldn't visit this year, this might be the next best thing."

She drew him in for a tight hug. "It was wonderful. Thank you."

"You were really good Mummy," Angela said. "They should let you sing on telly every year."

Mum let out a teary chuckle. "Thank you, Angela, but I think that much publicity might go to my head."

"Can we watch it again before church?" she asked.

Mum looked at Dad. "If you want to, Shelagh," he said.

"Well, all right." She patted the sofa seat beside her. "Come sit up here, Angela. Then Tim can tell you all about it."

"So now," Tim said, as he restarted the projector. "You'll always remember."


End file.
